With the sleek looking broom over his shoulder Dean wandered down to the Quidditch pitch. He still had no idea what Quidditch really was other than what Crowley had told him, but he assumed that figuring it out on the fly couldn't be that difficult. "Not quite," a familiar voice said behind him, giggling.

Dean turned around, suppressing a groan as he recognized the Guide's voice. "What do you want now?" He asked irritably.

"Oh, don't worry, I am here to help you," she scoffed, waving a hand. "First things first, you need to look the part of a Quidditch player. Flannel and jeans are great, but not for flying. Trust me on that."

Dean felt his clothes rustle and when he looked down he saw himself garbed in some sort of leathery outfit. "The hell is this?" he demanded.

"The official Quidditch outfit of the year you played in the Quidditch World Cup," she said happily. "You look very handsome in it by the way."

"Uh, thanks?" Dean said, raising an eyebrow. "But, uh, you aren't my type."

"Don't worry, you aren't mine either," she laughed. "Mortal and such. Anyways, the other thing I gave you was the ability to play at a professional level. Can't have you looking like an amateur."

"How can you give someone the ability-." Dean began to ask, his words cutting off as a massive amount of information and memories that were not his began to flood his mind. He blinked several times as he processed this information. He instantly knew everything about Quidditch and he felt extremely comfortable with the sport as well, despite knowing that it was now played in the air. "Nevermind."

"Well, that's all the help I am going to give for a while," she said happily. "And I mean that literally. From now on, you, Sam, Crowley, and Castiel are very much on your own. Enjoy the wizarding world, Dean. I will see you later."

With a wink, the Guide vanished in a mass of blue sparks. Dean sighed in annoyance and continued his way down to the pitch, pausing after only a few steps. He pulled his broom off his shoulder and looked at it thoughtfully for a moment. With his new memories he knew everything about this broom. It was a firebolt and the absolute latest model at that. For a moment, just a moment, he looked at it with the same admiration that he would with his car. But then the moment passed and he swung his foot over the broom and kicked off, soaring towards the pitch.

Oliver was pacing before a line of students garbed in red and gold, clearly giving them some sort of speech. Dean watched as one of the students pointed him out. Oliver gave a curious sort of jump dance and hastily moved to stand in line alongside the other Gryffindors. Touching down in front of them, Dean shouldered his broom once more. "Good evening Professor!" The Gryffindors said in clearly practiced unison.

"So, Oliver asked me to help you out," Dean said, walking in front of them. "To give you some pointers."

"Yes sir!" Oliver said excitedly.

Dean stopped short and glared at Oliver. "I wasn't finished." He said in a low voice. He pulled a whistle out of his pocket and looked at it fondly. "Take a lap."

Oliver frowned in confusion. "A lap?" He repeated.

Dean pointed at the side of the field. "Run around the edge of the field."

"Uh, Professor, don't you mean fly?" George asked warily. "I mean, this is Quidditch."

"You two can join him," Dean said, pointing at the twins. He blew his whistle loudly and roared, "Get moving!"

The three designated players took off running just as Dean turned his attention back to the others. "Where is my Seeker?" He asked, looking up and down the line. A small brown-haired boy stepped forward, looking straight forward. Dean nodded and then kicked open the box that held the Bludgers and the Snitch. The two murderous balls went whizzing off a moment later, followed closely by the Snitch. "Quidditch is a game of speed, cunning, and power. You have five minutes to catch the Snitch or you will take a lap like them."

Harry looked at Dean with open-mouthed shock until Dean tapped his wrist as though asking for time. The Seeker grabbed his broom and went tearing off in the general direction that the Snitch had gone. "Now, you three are my Chasers then, correct?" he asked, looking at the three remaining players.

"Yes sir," one of the said, a worried tone in her voice.

"Well I am going to teach you three one of the best games that I have ever played," Dean said, drawing his wand and grabbing the Quaffle. He pointed his wand at the Quaffle and then tossed it to the girls. "Get in the air. Hot potato. If that Quaffle hits the ground, you run."

The one who caught the ball opened her mouth to ask a question and then realized that the Quaffle was now extremely hot. She shrieked and dropped the ball. "Run." Dean said pointing at her. The other two exchanged a look of disbelief and grabbed their brooms as she followed Fred, George, and Oliver around the field. The remaining Chasers took off into the air, passing the Quaffle back and forth between themselves as rapidly as they could.

And so went the practice. Dean proved to be a very effective trainer though his methods were very akin to the ones that his father used in raising him. Punish failure and not acknowledging success. It might not have been the most effective approach at coaching, but it was the one he used nonetheless. By the end of practice the Gryffindor team was soaked in sweat and mud from the field, all of them having run several laps at the very least. "Alright, line up." Dean called.

They made their way over to Dan and stood in front of them, breathing hard to the last. He waited for them to catch their breath and then nodded approvingly. "I have to say, I am impressed," he said, pacing in front of them. "You have some rusty points, but you are still kids so that is to be expected. I know some of you may not be my biggest fan right now, and that is fine. I was hard on you, I admit it. Not because I got off on watching you suffer, but because I see potential in you. All of you."

Perhaps Dean underestimated his influence on the team, but his words had an odd effect on all of them. They all straightened up and raised their heads in what he guessed was pride. Oliver in particular seemed particularly affected by his words, the manic gleam returning to his eyes. "Thank you, Professor!" he said.

"Each of you have things to work on, things you need to improve," Dean said frankly. "I won't lie, you have work to do. But on the other hand you each have things you are amazing at already. I can help you this season, if you want. But the decision has to be unanimous. Don't decide right now, come find me after you have made your decision." Dean swung a foot over his broom just as a Bludger came flying at the group from across the field.

"Professor, I don't think-." Oliver began.

Dean clapped his hand at one of the twins and the Weasley tossed him his bat. "This isn't your just your decision Oliver," he told him, his bat held at the ready as the Bludger came at them. "A good captain listens to his team."

At the last possible moment Dean swung his bat at the Bludger and sent the violent little ball flying away, soaring through the far right goal post.